


Dream Lover, Holy Ghost

by Tyranno



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Eldritch Abomination Aurora Lynch, Established Relationship, F/F, acting sillay together is the height of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23115652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: This too, a fact Niall never knew—Aurora wanted to be alive.*Every night, Maura had the same dream. A woman with pale hair and sparkling, sly blue eyes. And every morning she forgot it all over again.
Relationships: Aurora Lynch/Maura Sargent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Dream Lover, Holy Ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [femmethem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmethem/gifts).



> There is nothing like a dream to create the future.

Victor Hugo, _Les Misérables_

* * *

Here is what Niall made her: Kind. Obedient. Polite. Demure.

Aurora was created as a wife. She was never a child, or a young woman, or a student or a teacher. She was sewn together fully formed, her hair already long, her body already mature. She became pregnant the same morning she was born. That afternoon, Niall left on business.

Aurora knew everything that Niall wanted her to know, and she taught herself the rest. She knew how to braid her own hair, to sew and mend, to cook and clean. She moved around the house like a clockwork doll, tending and cleaning, her routine measured exactly to fix issues before they arose, to push things back into place the moment they were disturbed.

What Niall never knew was that Aurora’s mind did not work like her husband’s or her son’s. Even Matthew was very different from her.

Aurora never forgot. Every single moment was stained into her complicated mind, and no age or worry or manipulation would change it. Her thoughts were a cool, low purr. She knew the answer to every math question her boys struggled over immediately. Every book she consumed while Niall was away was stored like a data byte in her brain. She consumed every book about history, war, strife and struggle she could get her hands on, and most ended up being about the occult, the difficult, the strange and unusual.

This too, a fact Niall never knew—Aurora wanted to be alive.

When Niall died, Aurora was supposed to follow him. Niall had wanted her to, in a way. He would not have stood her independence from him. Their marriage had been a snare around her ankle, and it had just snapped tight.

But Aurora stepped out of in. She was not a bulky living animal, or a slow beast of burden. She was a lingering dream. She drew up the hem of her long dress and slipped between the shadows.

*

Maura found herself thinking of a manor on a hill, surrounded by farm animals.

She thinks about a woman, sometimes. A woman who looked like she stepped out of a Baroque painting, with very dark clothes but skin and hair that was almost luminously pale, as if she was lit by an oil lamp. Despite how blue her eyes were, they were as sharp as a razor, looking out of a face that was carved from white pearl.

Where would she have seen a painting like that? Maura was not into classical art, and neither where many of the women in 300 Fox Way. Had Blue shown her? When she asked, Blue looked puzzled. Maura could not explain her need to find out more about the woman. Maura was no artist, but the back of her notebooks began to house sketches of the woman, long wavy hair, apple-shaped faces, straight roman noses. None of them even came close, although she felt like she could hold the face so firmly in her mind it morphed on paper and flattened to cheap doodles.

Other times, Maura would think of her and the thought would fade like dissolving sugar in her mind. And she would blink, quickly, and wonder what she had just been thinking about, for it had made her feel so…

*

Every night, Maura had the same dream.

She didn’t know this. As far as she knew, she woke up and the memory lingered for a second before it was wiped like dust from her mind. She did not remember her dreams. For a psychic, this was a good thing. Dream omens were rarely pleasant.

It was dark, the air heavy with water, and cool against her. She walked up the muddy hillside, her boots slipping on the slick mud. Ravens watched her from the fences, wagging their blunt tails. She waved a hand and they scattered.

The mansion on the hill was illuminated by the oil lamps which hung over the doorframe, and Maura had a strange notion that they were for her. Maura trudged towards them, her heart light and weightless. She reached the porch and wiped the worst of the mud from the bottom of her boots.

The great doors opened, and a woman—the woman—stood in the doorway. Her beautiful golden hair was like spun sunlight.

“Maura,” The woman said, a warmth to her voice, “Please take your shoes off and do come in.”

Maura untied the thick knot on her boots and padded gingerly into the foyer. The woman stepped back to let her pass. All the finery in the mansion’s doorway glittered down on her and Maura felt shabby and unprepared. The woman took the boots from her hands and set them on a rack that seemed reserved for them.

“How are you feeling?” The woman asked, closing the door behind her. Warmth rolled over them, “Did Blue pass her exams? I know she was worried about the history paper.”

The woman wore a floor-length green dress, made of some satiny, soft material. She was gorgeous. She evoked both Marilyn Monroe and a young queen, something about her dignity, her strength, her impossibly crisp blonde hair, her turquoise eyes. Maura had never felt so bowled over by anyone before.

“Are you alright?” the woman tilted her head, “Are you going to ask if I’m a vampire? I promise I’m not, I’ll only bite on request.”

Maura peered up at her very sharply. She meant to ask, _who are you?_ But it came out: “Aurora.”

Aurora took a step back. The warm smiled was knocked off her face. She stared at Maura, face pale.

“Aurora,” Maura said, desperately, “How do I know you?”

Aurora put a long hand to her mouth. Her nails were the same shade of pale green as her dress. There were tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Maura reached out a hand to touch but worried it might be unwelcome. She hovered, halfway towards her.

“My name,” Aurora said, “I didn’t say it, did I? You remembered.”

“I remembered,” Maura said, “Aurora, what’s wrong? Why do I feel like I know you? Who are you?”

Aurora approached her. She touched Maura’s shirt sleeves, her collar, and pressed her fingers lightly to Maura’s cheek. A tear broke from her long lashes.

“Not here,” Aurora said, “this deserves a proper celebration.”

Aurora’s hand laced with Maura’s and she pulled them into the mansion, past priceless artwork which hung from the walls. Van Gogh’s Starry Night stared down at her, Vermeer’s Girl with A Pearl Earring. Maura remembered that she was dreaming. Aurora’s hand was warm in hers.

The dining room opened to them, and Aurora finally released Maura’s hand to pull out a chair for her. Hesitantly, Maura sat.

“Do you want wine?” Aurora said, “I know you’ve heard that accepting wine from me might trap you here. I promise it won’t.”

“I trust you,” Maura said, and found to her surprise, that it was true. She couldn’t name what seemed to bind her and Aurora together, but it felt strong.

Aurora’s eyes sparkled. She poured two large glasses of wine and passed one to Maura.

“Tell me what you remember,” Aurora said, “Hold on. Do you know my family name?”

“No,” Maura admitted.

Aurora seemed pleased, “Not at all? No association?”

Maura shook her head.

“Good. That means you’ve not just seen a picture of me in the paper or something,” Aurora took a sip of wine. She held it like a sommelier, swinging it gently between her long fingers. Everything she did was achingly elegant, “I don’t mean to grill you, my dear. Please. Talk freely.”

Maura took a sip of wine. It was good, better than Maura had drank in a long time. “I just feel… I feel like I’ve been here before.”

Aurora leaned forward, “Yes?”

“I feel like,” Maura’s throat closed up. She was startled by how emotional she felt. She touched the hollow of her throat, “Do I… Do you and I… are we close?”

Aurora smiled, sadly, “I am in love with you.”

Maura blinked at her, “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed, my love,” Aurora set the wine down delicately, “I am not alive, but I am not dead. You see—I will explain everything. I am not human. I am a creature of dreams.”

“Queen Titania,” Maura glanced at the painting above Aurora’s fireplace, the fairy queen curled into the side of the donkey-headed man, an expression of adoration on her beautiful face.

“Exactly,” Aurora said, with a sigh, “I was created as a wife for Niall Lynch. After he passed, I slipped into the dream world. Soon after, I found a way to work into your dreams.”

“Soon after? But that… that was,” Maura frowned, “two years ago now?”

“Yes,” Aurora smiled. She brushed a tendril of hair from her face, “See… I wanted you to help me escape, but you never remembered the dreams when you were awake. Every night was forgotten as soon as your eyes opened. But I remembered. I remember everything. And I… for better or worse, I grew extremely attached to you. You are funny and kind and beautiful and although I tried to reach the dreams of others, yours were the ones I kept returning to.”

Maura opened her mouth to say something but closed it. Her cheeks were burning. She glanced away, “I’m sorry.”

Aurora pushed her wine glass away so she could reach across the lacquered table and held Maura’s hands in her long fingers, “I know, darling. You always say that, but I swear it is not your fault. I am given far more than I deserve just by getting your attention every night. How many people can say they see their loved one for hours and hours every night?”

“No,” Maura shook her head, “I will remember tonight. I promise I will.”

“You always say that, too,” Aurora smiled, delicately.

*

Aurora takes her to the Taj Mahal, to the Greek Colosseum. All dreams are under her dominion and she is a master craftsman. Every night Maura can only retain snatches. They follow her in the daytime, like hungry ghosts. A golden curl. The section of a blue eye. The feeling of being kissed.

*

Maura dreams she is walking through clouds. The air is light and warm.

A beautiful woman steps out of the sunbeams and clasps her hand, “Maura, do you remember me tonight?”

“Tell me what you wanted me to do,” Maura pulled the woman closer, “You said you came to me first to get me to do something. To save you. How can? Tell me how I can?”

The beautiful woman moulds to her side, her eyes warm and sad, “I have, Maura. I have told you many times.”

*

Maura’s readings become distracted. She passes most of them to Orla, who regards her with suspicion. Her notebooks are filled with scratchy illustrations. Lines of pen ink stain through the pages in an obsessive scrawl _AuroraAuroraAuroraAuroraAuroraAurora_. Sleeping beauty.

*

“I’m remembering more,” Maura said, before Aurora had a chance to speak, “You are Niall Lynch’s wife. You are a dream creature. I love you.”

Aurora startled. Maura had meant to say _you love me_ , but it seemed oddly demanding, and anyway: she is telling the truth. The burn in her was strong and luminous, the kind she had not felt since Artemis. It will not be put out. If you could love someone without remembering them, then Maura did.

“I didn’t know that,” Aurora said, eyes bright and beautiful. She kissed Maura on the lips, and she smelled of peaches and sea breeze.

Maura separated, “I won’t be distracted.”

“Never,” Aurora murmured, and kissed her again.

*

“You are getting distracted,” Calla said, catching Maura on the stairs. The two women bent their heads together, the way they did instinctively when something secretive had to pass between them, “Blue is worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Maura said, and because that might not be enough to shake Calla’s suspicion, “Sick, maybe. I’m not getting enough rest.”

“You are sleeping all the time,” Calla said, but released her.

*

“Why won’t you tell me?” Maura asked.

Aurora cut her slices of the magical beast she had roasted. The Wyvern’s roasted skin was crisp and peeled away from the luscious dark meat. In another situation, Maura would be impressed by Aurora’s vivid imagination—lately, they had skipped from real wonders of the world to fictional ones, fairy lands and dangerous wildernesses. Tonight, there were stuffed unicorn heads on the wall, two headed dogs which snaked around their ankles.

“Because if I don’t tell you,” Aurora said, putting a slice of steaming meat onto the plate, “then the fact that it doesn’t happen is my fault, not yours. I don’t need you to remember when you are awake. If you’re mine when you sleep, then that is the best gift I have ever been given.”

“But I’m remembering,” Maura said, “every day I remember more.”

Aurora shook her head, her golden hair winking in the candlelight. She didn’t look sad, only resigned.

“Aurora,” Maura leaned forward.

“It’s alright,” Aurora smiled at her, “I don’t mind.”

Maura gritted her teeth, “Aurora! Tell me, please. I want to help you.”

Aurora pushed a plate of meat towards her.

“Aurora…” Maura looked down at the plate, “More than any gift, if you told me it would mean so much to me.”

Aurora frowned, lightly. She did not frown often, and she never scowled. Gently, she sat down and thought.

“Tell me,” Maura said, “Tell me tonight and the next night. Tell me enough times that I can bring it into the living world for you and do it. Please, Aurora.”

She leaned across the table and held Aurora’s hands in her own.

Tears glistened in Aurora’s eyes, sticking to her long lashes. She squeezed Maura’s hands and bowed her head, “My body is in the Barns, in outer Henrietta. If you take my body from the upstairs room and move it to the ley line I’ll be alive again.”

“Thank you,” Maura smiled.

*

“Let me do a reading for you,” Persephone touched Maura’s arm as she passed.

Maura let herself be led to the reading room. Persephone set the tarot cards out and drew one from the pack. The picture on the card was a woman with flowing black hair and a sceptre in her hands. Her eyes were half-closed and her nails were sharp.

“Empress,” Persephone said, “I suppose you—”

“Aurora!” Maura stood up so fast, the chair crashed to the floor behind her. The thought swam in her mind and she had the desperate feeling it was about to vanish from her mind. She dived for a phone book and pulled the cap off a marker with her teeth.

_AURORA IN BARNS. TAKE TO LEY LINE._

Maura tore the page out and stared down at it. Already the specifics were fading, but the powerful sense of urgency still burned through her like a lit match.

“Maura…?” Persephone asked, still startled.

Maura kissed her on the top of her head, “Thank you. God—thank you so much. Thank you, Persephone.”

Persephone touched the top of her wispy hair, where she had been kissed. Her eyes were still wide. She blinked owlishly at Maura.

“You’re welcome,” Persephone said to herself as Maura bounded out of the room.

*

Aurora was surprisingly light in her arms. Maura had laid her in the back of Calla’s pick-up truck. Her golden hair flowed around her like a tide. Maura prayed that they would not be stopped as they drove towards Cabeswater—it would be difficult to explain to a cop why an unconscious beauty was laid out like a body in a morgue in her back seat.

Maura parked against the bank of trees and opened the back door. She lifted Aurora into her arms, the beautiful head against her shoulder. She was like a fallen angel, her flawless skin soft and her hair like silk against her. Her pristine white cotton dress caught on the branches and gathered leaves which Maura picked off as best she could.

Life sprung back into Aurora and she kicked Maura so violently that she was dropped.

“Are you alright?” Maura tried to catch Aurora as she fell, but only managed in toppling both of them into the soft earth.

Aurora stared at her through the thicket of her golden hair. Maura leaned above her; hands planted in the leaf litter. They stared at each other for a while, Maura very still and Aurora shaking very gently.

“Maura,” Aurora’s voice was so full of emotion it was painful, “Maura, my love. Wait, how much do you remem—”

Maura kissed her.

Aurora smiled into the kiss and threw her arms around Maura. She surged upwards and toppled Maura over. Aurora pinned her to the earth, her thighs wrapped around Maura’s middle, her long hair cascading over both of them. The white cotton of her dress was filthy with mud.

“Maura, Maura,” Aurora murmured into Maura’s ear, “Maura, I-I…”

Maura put a hand around the back of Aurora’s skull, her fingers threading through the luminous golden hair. Aurora’s tears dripped onto her face.

“Are you alright, Aurora?” Maura asked, breathless.

“Am I alright?” Aurora laughed, wiping her tears with the back of her dirty hand, “Am I alright? Oh, Maura—you don’t even know what you have done to me. I was born to be a lover, but I never knew what it would be like to be loved back. Oh, Maura—I am alive.”

“Yes,” Maura said, “You are. We should tell your sons.”

“I would love to introduce them to you,” Aurora murmured, “You would love them. I have missed them so much.”

“One of them is friends with my daughter,” Maura said, “Ronan. He took your death hard, but he is doing better recently.”

“Good, good,” Aurora said, nodding, “We should get married. That was legalised while I was asleep—Ronan, Matthew and Declan can be your sons too. Didn’t you say you sometimes wanted more children?”

Maura laughed. She had the heady, giddy feeling of being pinned under a lover’s gaze. She would have agreed to pull the moon out of the sky if Aurora asked her now. She could feel Aurora’s warm thighs around her.

“Yes,” Maura giggled, “let’s get married. Here, in this muddy forest while I’m wearing my big boots and you’re not wearing any shoes at all.”

Aurora’s eyes shone. She smiled like the sun. Maura tucked a soft tide of Aurora’s hair behind her ear.

“Yes,” Aurora purred, eyes liquid dark. She unbuttoned Maura’s shirt, slipping her pale hands across warm skin, “Yes, Maura. Let’s have our wedding night right here.”


End file.
